Gunpowder and Fire
by RedheadRennie
Summary: They were a volatile combination. Some fluff, some angst, not in order. {A series of Royai one shots rated K to T}
1. Threshold

Her blood spattered across cold, murky concrete. Those mocha eyes were wide in shock, as if she couldn't believe this was how she would face death. The instant it took for the sword to move past her neck slowed down to unbearable torture. He could see every rivulet of her life spill out. Every flicker of emotion in those eyes. The tight grip on her shoulders let loose, and she careened forward. Those eyes still stared towards him. It took what felt like hours for her to hit the ground and when she finally did, she couldn't bring her fingers to the wound. The weakness already started consuming her. The garnet puddle spread. She wasn't staunching the blood flow. He was sure she'd kept her wits about her enough to do that, hadn't she? She'd done it once. She knew what to do. She would do it again, right? No, no she wasn't. And those eyes were focused on him as he struggled. Dark, malicious hatred in her glare made his heart beat double time in his chest. She was blaming him. Silently and undoubtedly blaming him. He called to her, told her to staunch the wound with her hand. She only stayed motionless and continued to keep her agonized eyes on him. Her lips moved. Blood flowed from her mouth. A whisper. So quiet he couldn't hear it. He called to her again, desperate for some cooperation and absolution. This time, her hazed eyes pinned him with perfect clarity.

"I never should have trusted you."

The deep pit in his stomach dragged him down. Now, it wasn't the hands which held him, but the black tendrils of the Gate. He was sinking. Slowly into the eye which had opened up beneath him. He begged, wanted to explain. Wanted to apologize for all he'd done to her and her father's legacy. His bare hands clawed at the blankness encompassing him. She only kept a furrowed brow and hateful eyes. His pleas went unanswered. Blood continued to pour out of her neck, towards him. The void which dragged him ever deeper was mixed with her blood. It coated him in slick life. Coal and garnet met and swallowed him, pulling him further down even though he scrambled to clamber onto solid ground again.

"I'll never forgive you."

No, not that. Not more hidden truths. Not loathing. He needed time to tell her how much he hated himself. How he knew he'd made every conceivable mistake. The ebony crimson made it to his jawline. He was left gasping. His body convulsed and he could feel himself drowning in blood and hell, the thickness of it sliding down his throat.

* * *

Roy bolted up, gasping and coughing and retching with his hands around his throat and sweat dripping down his face. His hair was matted to his head. Chest heaving, the whirlwind emotions made his eyes gloss over. Head buried in his hands, elbows on his knees, he sat crouched in bed shivering and shaking. He didn't dare close his eyes. Hers were still staring into his soul, hateful and vengeful. He swallowed down the clawing pit of anxiety trying to overwhelm him.

He'd had the same nightmare three times this past week. Each had been worse. His lieutenant had said the same things to him and each night made it worse. Her voice only became more vitriolic. She hated him. Blamed him. Loathed him and what he'd done with the secrets she'd revealed.

He turned his gaze to the phone on his nightstand. The clock next to it said it was just before midnight. Fingers trembling, he reached for it and turned the rotary to the right numbers.

The line was busy.

That beep never sounded more damning than it did now. He needed to hear her voice. Not some mechanical thing. Words unfilled with hatred coming from her mouth would be the difference between another sleepless night and some peace.

He pushed the sheets aside. A walk on a warm summer night would soothe him.

* * *

His scream pierced her. It was inhuman, animalistic, wrought with fear and pain. She could hear every vibrato in that raw scream. The blood soaked through his gloves and she watched it seep into the ground. Pinned down with swords in his hands, he laid at the mercy of a homunculus. She was too weak. Too useless to do much more than scream his name. No, not his name, never his name, but his rank. The black hands crept in to immobilize him and Bradley walked way. He was prone, vulnerable. She had one job and she couldn't even do it. He was staring at her, begging with those deep eyes to stop this madness. So much in that gaze and she couldn't do what he was silently telling her to. She refused. He didn't deserve to have it happen like this. He'd come too far, atoned for so much, that being forced to do this was beyond cruel. No, those eyes were pleading with her. They'd been together so long that he didn't even have to say the words. Her heart was weak, but what little strength it had it was using to drum against her ribs in a maddened pace. She silently begged for him to not give her that order. No matter what wrench it threw in the plans of these demons, she couldn't - wouldn't - do what he wanted.

"Riza, please."

She felt tears overflow her eyes. She had so much to say, to confess and confide. They would only have this second of eye contact, this fleeting moment of cold comfort. She hadn't heard her own name fall from his lips for ages. She didn't want this to be the way she last heard it. It should have been a lifetime of companionship. But this...

It all happened so fast and yet not fast enough. Her weak hands gripped the last gun in her holster. He was smiling at her, forgiving her for her sins. He'd entrusted his back to her, and now she would do this facing him. He would see the pain it caused her. The anguish. The homunculus saw her movement, but she was committed. The motion was smooth, horrifically practiced.

Bradley charged. She pulled the trigger. Roy's head snapped back, hitting the ground with a dull, hollow thud. The bright flash of a sword flew across her vision.

 _Even into hell, sir._

* * *

Riza screamed into the darkness of her apartment. Hiyate was so startled he fell from where he lay at her feet. Her hands were shaking. The tears she'd shed in her nightmare carried over into the wakeful purgatory she now found herself. Guilt and self-loathing ate at her heart. She had always promised to follow orders, but that... Hiyate clambered back to the bed and licked at her face. She held him tight, the feel of his soft coat calming her shattered nerves.

For the past weeks, she'd seen that same scenario in her sleep; pinned and being used to further a deadly plan, her Colonel ordered her to kill him. To ensure they couldn't do more harm than they'd already done. No matter that it hadn't come to that. It did every night and perhaps that was worse. Wiping sweat from her neck and brow, she exhaled unsteadily and put her forehead against Hiyate's.

Looking up into the darkness, the gleam of her phone caught her eye. She had to tell him. Tell him that she couldn't follow him any more. She'd been so tormented about this imaginary decision. She knew that, if ever he gave that order, she couldn't follow it. No matter what it cost. She picked up the headset and reached over to roll the numbers around. Her heart hammered and she took a shaky inhale to ready herself.

The line was busy.

Her commitment faltered. The crystal clear decision she needed to make was murky, tainted by that insufferable beeping sound. Would she still have the conviction tomorrow to tell him the fears which were eating away at her sanity?

Hiyate pawed at the door. Looking at her grandfather clock, she saw the hands pointing to just before midnight. While her pup usually never needed a midnight walk, she supposed the fresh air would be better than the dank air in her apartment.

* * *

His eyes were downcast. The sidewalk held no interesting display, but it was holding his attention nonetheless. Those hateful, chocolate eyes haunted him. Even for the balmy summer night, he still felt chills go down his spine. Standing still for a moment, he looked at his own hands. They were quaking. It wasn't the wounds, it was him. His nerves. His resolve. How could he be committed to this country and risk the woman he refused to admit he loved?

An excited bark caught his attention. Looking away from the concrete, he saw Riza and Hiyate about the same time Riza saw him. Her heart fluttered and sank and froze. Each thought they'd stumbled into another dream. While they only lived a few blocks apart, they never saw one another without it being coordinated. Roy offered a small smile and straightened, quickly hiding his unsteady hands in his lounge-pants pockets.

"Lieutenant." _How I long to call you Riza._

"Colonel. Strange seeing you out this late," Riza tried sound casual. Tried to hide her fear that she'd followed him as far as she could in his journey.

He nodded, "I just needed to clear my head. And you? Taking Hiyate for a midnight joy ride?" he tried to smile, tried to be indifferent.

"Yes." _no, I was terrified and had to leave that prison of a bedroom, away from the nightmares._

He stared at her. _So beautiful, but out of reach_ , he reminded himself, "Well, I should be heading back."

"Me as well," she echoed, _but please don't leave my side, Roy._

He cleared his throat and thought about walking away. His feet wouldn't move. Neither would hers. Clearing his throat again, he looked back at her, "Actually, Lieutenant, I wouldn't mind some company while I walk. Unless you prefer to be alone, of course," he amended. He wanted her to be at his side as much as he was afraid of what she might say.

She could feel so many emotions in her gut. So many that she wanted to act on, so many she wanted to repress, "A walk would be nice, sir."

"So, where to?" Roy asked. Looking around, neither of them saw a path they found attractive. Where to at this hour? After midnight during the week? There would be nothing to see or do and each would be faced with the possibility of a conversation they dreaded.

Riza straightened, "You could always walk me back to my apartment," _wait, what? No, that wasn't - isn't - a good idea..._

 _I don't dare hope; I don't deserve her,_ "If that's what you'd like, of course I can oblige."

She could see the smallest of smiles tug at his lips. He fell in step beside her, their soft footfalls blending in with the sounds of summer breezes, frogs and other nocturnal creatures. A moment ago, they thought the company would be awkward. Now, both found it soothing. A security blanket. They spoke of the comrades they'd seen off after the promised day. So many new allies. So much of the past weeks had flown by in the aftermath. A blur. They spoke of the reconstruction of Central Command, and how the new regime would no doubt handle the transfer of power.

Exiting the elevator, their conversation died as they neared Riza's apartment. She opened the door and stepped inside. He stayed in the hallway. This was it, the threshold of their part in each other's lives. It could never go past this.

"I appreciate the walk, Lieutenant," _what if you truly do despise me?_

"My pleasure. Would you care for a cup of tea before you go, sir?" _this is a bad idea, this can't be anything more..._

 _I want to, how I want to,_ " I wouldn't want to keep you up longer than I have."

Unbidden, Riza's hand reached out timidly to Roy's. Across the threshold, him outside and her in, they held hands for a long moment.

 _Just say it..._

 _Just tell her..._

"Come in and have some tea, Roy."

His coal eyes met hers and his shoulders relaxed. She entwined her fingers in his. For the first time in their careers, they decided to cross the threshold.


	2. With You, I Never Lose

_Goodbye, old life._

She hadn't heard his voice for days. He was too tired, too close to letting go. But she wasn't about to miss a single beat of his heart. No matter how many or how few there were left. She sat, vigilant. She watched his breath hitch more than once. And each time it did, she wasn't ready for it. Her hand kept a soft hold on his and she continued to wait. Their children, their grandchildren, had come and gone for the past week. They always checked in on them. Sometimes they would sit with her. Other times, they couldn't bear to stay for more than a brief pleasantry. They only told her to call if she needed anything.

She needed more time. One lifetime wasn't enough. Not for them. They were too young for this. Or perhaps that's only how she felt. The truth was much harsher, less forgiving. She needed so much more time.

 _Where did the hours go?_

She needed more time to love him. To whisper silly jokes. To hold his hand when he couldn't climb the stairs by himself. She needed more time to live with him at her side. Be his wife. She wanted nothing more than to find herself young again, him right there with her. One life wasn't enough. How could it ever be enough? How could any god up there think one life was enough? Her grip tightened, but in truth her translucent skin and frail bones couldn't do much more than pretend to tighten. The strength was gone.

Her purple veins were raised mountain ranges along her pale skin. Brown age spots had come in where perfect complexion had once been the norm. Wrinkles, lines – they all made her skin home. But it still wasn't enough. No matter how old they looked, they'd been young once. They'd been fervently in love. They'd fought together, sang together, made children together. She'd always had him to count on. For so many years now, he'd been hers.

 _I won't let you go just yet. Even if everything is telling me to._

They'd done so much together. Created governments, broke regimes, fought wars and raised children. They'd never once realized they'd passed so much time together. That so much of their lives had already gone by. Perhaps they had realized it, but chose to ignore their own mortality. Who wouldn't? Who thinks of death when life is so abundant? She needed him to be here. Her very existence had been better because of his.

The thing she missed the most was everything that couldn't be seen, or heard. Each gentle touch. All of the unspoken promises they'd made to each other in small, stolen moments. The smiles, the caresses. The winks and nods. All things that couldn't be accounted for. It wasn't just her husband she was losing. It was her life. Their life together had been grand, and hard and rewarding and beautiful.

 _It's gonna be a great story some day. But I'm not going to let you go just yet. Even if everything is telling me to._

The door downstairs opened and closed. She could barely hear it. Some sniper. Almost deaf, she'd forgotten what it felt like to be aware. For so long, she'd been happy just hearing her family and nothing else. She smiled at him. Their family was perfect. Their children had grown strong, their grandchildren were safe. The two of them had fought for so much, but for nothing so passionately as their own future.

"Grandma!" the voice rang out as the owner came into view.

Their eldest grandson, and their daughter, walked closer. They were talking, but she could barely hear them. All of her attention was on her husband. If only he could open his eyes and see them again. If he could see once more the proud woman their daughter had become.

Maesi leaned in and kissed her on the forehead gingerly. Their grandson, Malcolm, sat across from her on the other stool. He was all smiles – he had grown so much in these past few years. It seemed like only yesterday he'd been born. But now, a young man, he wasn't so small. He was a stunning reminder of her husband. Strong, black eyes.

"Grandma, you'll never guess what I got to teach today?" he prompted.

She smiled patiently, her eyes on him. Oh, how he looked like Roy when she imagined it ever so slightly.

"I taught my class all about you and grandpa. None of them believed you two were my grandparents – I had to pull out a picture."

Riza nodded proudly. So, their story was already being retold to the new generations. Their trials and tribulations, their defeats and wins. It wasn't someday. It was now. She and Roy were history already. They'd lived so long that they were now the ones who came before. They were the ones who paved the path for this brave new world.

 _New life surrounds us._

She didn't care for a moment that Maesi had asked a question. All her focus was on her husband. He would've joked about being a warrior. He would've talked about alchemy with their grandson in earlier years. Now, he couldn't even bring forth the strength to open his eyes. He was so tired, all the time. His breath hitched and she begged him...

 _Not yet..._

Maesi didn't ask her question again. Her daughter had enough sense to know she was occupied. Her brain, once able to do so much, had given up long ago. Now, just focusing on her husband was enough to drown out everything else.

She'd always been focused on him. On their first fight. The first time they kissed. They first time she admitted she was in love. The first time she smelled him. The first time they made love. A lifetime of first times, and there was so much more to give him. If he could just open his eyes, she could give him news of his first great-grandchild. If he could just stay along, he could be there for their first grandson's wedding. All the firsts that were still to come, and she would be facing them alone.

Alone. Left alone because this, all this, was so fragile. Life, hope, love...it was all so fragile. But she'd never lost any of it. Not when she had him. But his age had caught up to him. Eight years her senior, she'd always hoped it wouldn't end like this. She'd always hoped they'd be together right until the end. But now...

She looked at her grandson, Malcolm. He was smiling at her. He was patient. He was gentle and kind. He was everything she could hope a young man could be these days.

"Did you know he could sing?" Riza asked.

Malcolm's nostalgic face warmed, "I remember the lullabies."

"Oh, he could sing. We'd sing your mother to sleep when she was a child," Riza's frail hand took her daughter's. Her daughter held her firm, kept her strong, "We'd sing on the battlefield. We'd sing when we were alone. We always sang."

Her breath caught and she felt the overwhelming knowledge that this was it. She would never see his eyes again. She wouldn't ever hear herself called 'my queen' again. This was his final hour. This was where their story would end.

Once again, she would be alone in the world.

"Do you want us to stay, grandma?" Malcolm asked.

She shook her head, "No, sweetheart. You two run along. I know you have to teach again tomorrow."

"We can be here, mom," Maesi said softly.

Riza looked at her darling daughter. How quickly she'd become just like her father. But, no, this was their story. Her's and Roy's. This was how she wanted it.

"Oh, no, dear. I'll be over tonight. Maybe you can make that apple pie we like so much..."

Maesi nodded, her eyes overflowing, "Anything you want."

Malcolm looked between them, "You're not staying the night here?" he asked.

Riza smiled and looked at Roy, "No, sweetheart. I could always tell when he was done fighting."

She leaned closer and kissed her husband on the cheek. Her frail hand held his temples and she smiled at him. If she tried, just tried hard enough, she could feel him. Like she always could before. She could feel his love radiate from him.

 _Everything is telling me to, my king._

She didn't notice her daughter and her grandson leave. She didn't notice their tears. She didn't even notice the closing of the door.

She just lay her head on his heart and listened to every beat. Every moment of their lives, she could hear in that disappearing heartbeat. Like a distant drum, it faded. She kissed him on his cheek and waited. Her hand around his stayed firm. She wouldn't forget any of it. Not one beat. Not one kiss. Not one smile.

 _Where did the hours go?_

No, one life wasn't enough. But it was all she had. And, for that one life, she had loved. She had felt loved. Their family would go on, and their story would continue. Her husband, her king, her hero, would fall asleep soon and never wake her with a kiss. There would be no more singing. No more smiles and laughs. No more war stories and gun fights. Her husband would be remembered as a great man. A hero. A fighter. He would be honored by his country, by their progeny. But all she could do for him now was let him be at peace. They'd dragged each other out of horrible scrapes and dead ends. But not this one.

"I won't miss a beat," she promised.

She could feel that heart slow. Her husband's breath caught and she watched his chest fall. She dotted one more frail kiss to his gaunt cheek, and she buried her head to his chest and waited. She wouldn't leave, not yet. She would see him through to the very end. She would be there, at his side, until their vows were fulfilled. She waited. Her head lay motionless on his chest, and she waited.

His chest fell. His heart stopped. Her eyes overflowed. Silently, she cried. She let him go. She didn't beg, she didn't plead. She let him go. She let her love float away with him. It was all she could do.

Moments passed. She hadn't missed a beat. The drum had stopped.


End file.
